The Game’s the Thing

I’ve been considering of late the elements of what a GM considers when starting up a new game, particularly in terms of what will make it a success both personally and for the players. I’ve not had any particular epiphany on this, or bold, daring new outlook, but I thought I’d babble about it anyway.

In general, it breaks down into four categories. None of these can be considered in a vacuum (or at least should not); that said, they fall roughly into this sequence:

Rules
What rules are you going to use? Why? Are you looking for simplicity? Thoroughness? Realism? Cinematic? Flexibility? Definition? Diceless? Diceful? Generic? Setting/genre-specific? Abstract? Detailed?

There are reasons for all of the above, but the question most often asked (and rightfully so) is whether you want something that is familiar to yourself and the players. Familiarity can kick-start things, avoiding the need for learning (many) new rules and mechanics, buy (or borrow) new books, etc. It can also breed contempt, not to mention stifle innovation; an interesting new game mechanic (or whole new rule set) can be inspiring and refreshing.

For a neophyte GM, working in a familiar rules setting not only makes it easier, it allows the GM to draw on the knowledge of others; by the same token, that can be a little stifling, and a daring newbie may consider a system that they can be the expert on.

All of the above is why D20 is loved by some, hated by others.

The rules selection is thus influenced by the players (both in terms of their temperament, what they’re looking for, their openness to something new, and what their prejudices may be). It’s also influenced by the genre (which may necessitate rules additions, or a whole other rule set, if you go with someone’s canned setting) and the type of story you want to tell.

Setting
Fantasy? Space opera? Western? Spies? Spirits?

More importantly, are you going to roll your own, or get a pre-defined setting? Or, within a pre-defined setting, are you going to develop your own adventures, or rely on canned modules? There’s nothing wrong with letting others share the creative burden, but the more you can do yourself, the more satisfying, ultimately, it will be for you, the GM — and, hopefully, the players.

As with rules, there are advantages of campaign settings where, canned or not, there is familiarity from the players. It can help their characters act “naturally” and know the sorts of things they should know. Helpful players can assist to fill in the gaps of

On the other hand, there are dangers of familiar settings. The players may know more than the characters (“Well, if it’s a Mind Flayer, than the standard defense is …”), and may also know more than the GM (“No, no, wookiee government doesn’t work like that!”). There can also be a sense of been-there-done-that which saps enthusiasm from both player and GM alike.

Of course, the classic settings are classics because they work. There are plenty of settings that try to take a classic and tweak it (“It’s just like Tolkien, except elves are addicted to psionically draining the souls of humans, and weapons are made out of this rare blue crystal that is the basis for the economy and wars”). The value of such tweaks can be questionable.

In some ways, then, genre/setting works a lot like the rules; you can almost think of it as the story rules (as opposed to the mechanics rules).

The genre or setting may be influenced by the type of story you want to tell (or the type of story that the players want). You want an adventure of derring-do? Pirates or swashbucklers may be the way to go. Seeking the truth in a deep, dark conspiracy? Indeed, it’s arguable that you should choose the story type you want first, then find a genre and setting that supports it. Most stories will fit in most settings, but some settings become so exotic or centered around particular types of play or plots that the tail begins to wag the dog.

The players also get involved in just the basic setting; some people have no interest in space opera, or cartoon characters, or Tolkienesque fantasy. If there is a particular player you want to include at the table, you need to factor that in.

Story
What’s the theme? Maybe it’s “The Responsibility of Great Power.” Or “Decisions Matter.” Or “Soothing the Beast Within.” Or “Life Sucks.” Or “Everything You Know Is Wrong.” It should be the touchstone against which you judge your stories from meeting to meeting — with breaks, perhaps, but it should set the flavor for the campaign. Whether you’re planning a one-shot, a mini-series, or a multi-year epic, it should probably “be” about more than earning XP and eating chips.

Well, not necessarily. “It’s a Dungeon Crawl” is a legitimate if somewhat looked-down-upon theme. And sometimes that’s just fine (for a while, at least). Further, a theme doesn’t need to be Heavy. It can be something as simple and goal-oriented as “Striving against Danger to Become Famous Heroes,” or “Defeating the Evil Villain and His Dreaded McGuffin Bomb!” There can even be multiple themes — the “story” theme and the “characters” theme.

Once you have a theme, or at least a story arc, you need to figure out how to put together stories, episodes, serials, that feed into that (with, perhaps, occasional side jaunts). A big part of that will be deciding where you get your settings from. Is it all one big canned scenario? A series of canned modules? Campaign settings in which you write your own narrative?

(A note on canned modules — based on the idea that every story has already been told a zillion times, it’s quite possible to take good canned modules from even a very different setting and transplant them into the setting and story of your choice, developed by you or not. It can be some work, but sometimes less so than creating things from scratch.)

Other variations on this include books of canned or generic locations to encounter (without a narrative built around them — for example, cities, towns, temples in the wilderness) into which or around which you can build a story of your own.

You can also mix and match these techniques. Any given session can be your own tale, or (regularly or periodically) something canned that you’ve filed the edges off to fit into your campaign. You can take a very modular approach, bridging with your own material to make the campaign your own (perhaps with an eye toward going to more original material once you have your feet beneath you (or to do the climactic wrap-up of the arc or campaign).

It’s perfectly legitimate to decide upon a theme, an overall campaign story, and then look to see what rules and setting best fit that. In some ways, that’s a more artistic way of doing it, sort of like saying, “I want to write about how the irresponsibility of youth must sooner or later be atoned for,” and from there deciding on whether a short story or a novel is the best form, and whether it should be straight fiction, or historic, or a mystery, or a fantasy novel.

The story has to fit in with the players and characters, of course. Some folks may not care for straight adventure dungeon-crawls, either at all, or more than infrequently. Others may want nothing but, and eschew story-telling and acting as too much bother.

Characters (Players)
These interlink, so I’ll deal with them together.

Usually as a GM, I have an idea of who I want to play in a game, even before I know what I’m doing. That can, in fact, influence my decisions, knowing the preferences (and prejudices) of the players. On the other hand, if I know that I want to do a particular type of tale, or run a particular setting, I may choose differently amongst the player pool.

The types of characters developed will tend to be determined by the setting, and the story being told. Are we talking neophytes or rugged veterans? That’s as much a mind-set as a game mechanic (level). Is there a commonality in background or culture that will be important? You should decide early how (or whether) your desired theme needs to be set up with the characters, before people start developing them.

The characters developed are, ultimately, up to the players, within the constraints you specify (starting level, if nothing else). Usually. It is possible to provide canned characters to the players; this has the advantage to the GM of being able to build in some story elements (backgrounds, conflicts, goals). It has the disadvantage of getting less player buy-in to the character. (I did it a few times, back in college, with some success. Eventually, though, it stopped fitting in with my player audience, and I haven’t done it in some time.) Better, perhaps, to sit down with the players and work out the details of the characters you want to have fleshed out and set up. You can get some amazing ideas in response to what players come up with.

There’s one other factor some folks consider in kicking off a campaign: what’s the desired duration? Is this going to be a one-shot, or the Start of Something Big. I didn’t list it as one of the four, for the simple reason that it’s the least important. I’ve too many times seen something touted as a campaign turn into a short mini-adventure — or, more commonly, something planned as a one-shot (or two) turn out to be so much fun that it just keeps going and going.

To that end, I’d plan on anything you do being part of something long-term. Don’t paint yourself into a corner, and don’t take short-cuts or compromise in ways that could come back to haunt you. If you just want to run a one-shot, then don’t plan things out too far ahead, obviously — but at least consider what you might want to do if, for some reason, everyone demands you continue the story (and you find yourself in agreement).

(One of the best tricks for that is to simply come up with an anomaly or two — a medallion with a strange insignia, a one-eyed man who is spotted watching you then vanishes, reference to a distant city or king or demon or legend — and simply drop them into the first episode or arc. It doesn’t matter if you know what you’re going to do with them later — if there is a later, you’ll figure it out then, and everyone will be ooohing and aaahing over your foreshadowing. A lot of really good writers use this technique in their books, and there’s no reason why you shouldn’t, too.)

The two things I’d wrap with are simple enough, but too easy to lose sight of, especially when you start looking at elaborate campaign settings (canned or, worse, developed yourself):

1. Take baby steps. You don’t have to have a detailed map of the world, and NPC write-ups for everyone in the city, especially not for the first meeting. Figure out what you do need, and skim the rest.
2. Have fun. If you’re not having fun, figure out what you’re doing wrong. Nobody’s paying you for this, nobody’s life depends on it, and while it’s okay to have some drama alongside the laughs, that doesn’t mean that creating an episode or a campaign should be full of angst.

   Besides which, if you’re not having fun, your players are a lot less likely to.

Enough pontificating. Back to work.